


We'll meet (I know we'll meet) beyond the shore

by umakoo



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Come Inflation, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Human Genitalia, merman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merman AU in which Tom goes on vacation and meets a mysterious creature in the clear, turquoise waters of a secret cove.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll meet (I know we'll meet) beyond the shore

**Author's Note:**

> This is a modern day AU but nothing in this fic is based on actual science. It's all fantasy and I hope you guys are able to buy the existence of a hot merman who looks like Chris Hemworth for the sake of PWP :) I tried to give the merman trope a slightly different spin and my merman!Chris has a somewhat animalistic side, but even if he and Tom don't speak the same language, the sex is very much consensual.
> 
>  **Warnings for slight come inflation, a person nearly drowning and non-human genitalia**.
> 
> Big hugs to Teresa and Schaudwen for the quick beta work *smooch*.

He had to be lost by now. There had been no clear landmarks since he passed the gnarled old mangrove tree almost an hour ago, and the path underneath his feet was barely visible through the thick foliage. Tom’s eyes snapped up at a sudden loud screech to his left and he quickened his pace, kicking at the long blades of grass that kept slashing his skin, nearly losing a flip-flop in the process. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t had enough common sense to put on proper hiking boots, because that’s what this was turning out to be: a bloody hike.

 

The woods around him were full of strange bird calls and constant chirping from crickets, probably huge ones with creepy long legs and sharp mandibles. Just the thought of one landing somewhere on his body made Tom’s skin crawl and his hand shot up to scratch at a phantom itch on his neck. After another fifteen minutes of stumbling along the non-existent path, Tom stopped to consult the wrinkled map in his hands. It made no more sense to him than it did the last dozen times he had looked at it. Hand-drawn by two old knapsackers Tom had met at the hostel the previous night and confusing to begin with, it was almost illegible now that most of the ink had rubbed off on Tom’s sweaty palms. He exhaled a long groan and wiped at his damp forehead, fixing the Aviators that sat crookedly on the bridge of his heavily freckled nose. The sun had moved past the zenith, which meant the afternoon’s hottest hours would soon be upon him, which had to mean Tom had been walking for several hours now and there was still no sign of this “totally rad beach” the two hippies had promised him.

 

“Those wankers…”

 

Tom reached into his knapsack to pull out his canteen, swallowing a mouthful of lukewarm water to pry his dry tongue off the roof of his mouth. Once he’d been hydrated, he folded the makeshift map once more, pretty sure that following it would lead him to his doom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was late afternoon when the path finally became more visible again and Tom stumbled out of the thickets, the skin on his bare arms and calves scratched to hell by the sticks and brambles he’d had to push through; he didn’t just need proper boots, he needed a damn machete.

 

“That’s it,” Tom panted, shaking his head. It was time to admit defeat and turn back. He scratched at the side of his blistering foot, scowling at the local wildlife that had defeated him, but something ahead caught his eye: a big hunk of rocks that resembled a giant pelican, just like the one the hippies had drawn on the map, claiming the beach would be less than a kilometer away from it.

 

Tom reached into his backpack and consulted the map once more, letting out an excited whoop when he recognized the shape. He wiped his sweaty curls from his forehead and shoved them under his cheap straw fedora, his weary limbs suddenly full of life with the knowledge that he was not as lost as he’d feared.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out the hippies weren’t lying.

 

“Holy shit…” Tom stared at the almost dream-like view that opened up before his eyes. It was like something straight out of a travel brochure or a post card, one of the fancy ones you sent to your co-workers to make them feel shitty about being stuck at the office while you were on your fab holiday. Tom removed his shades to see if the waves lapping against the white shoreline really were as blue as it seemed.

 

They were even bluer.

 

According to the hippies, the beach was _a very_ exclusive secret known only by a select few, and Tom could see it was probably true. The beach was small and secluded, nestled in a small cove and surrounded by a wall of black rocks. The sand under his feet was pristine and there were no white sails in the horizon. Tom really was the only soul around for miles. Shaking his knapsack off his back, he threw his arms in the air and let out a loud shriek of victory, dashing to the shoreline. The salt in the turquoise water burned his blisters, but the feel of his feet sinking into the cool, wet sand was absolutely divine.

 

Tom had no idea why the pair of hippies had chosen to share their secret with him of all people when everything about him screamed ‘tourist’. The cheap wooden beads around his neck, the blotchy tan, the knockoff beach towel he’d bought from the first souvenir shop he’d seen after stepping out of the plane. Tom and the two worldly travelers had shared a room in a hostel for one night and they’d invited him to come and sit by the shabby backyard pool with them, offering him drinks, and later, some of the strongest weed Tom had ever smoked. He’d told them of his trip, gushing about the gorgeous beach he’d visited earlier that day (so what if it had been full of screaming kids and old ladies with varicose veins snaking about their legs like blue yarn) and one of the hippies, Doobie may have been his name, had scoffed at him while the one called Gus laughed so hard his mangy dreads shook behind his head.

 

“That’s tourist shit, man.”

 

“Yeah, man. You need to experience this place _for real_.”

 

One joint later, Gus and Doobie had begun to speak in hushed voices, like they were sharing government secrets with Tom, giving him pitying looks and claiming he had the look of an office rat, someone who hadn’t _lived_ , but Tom was in luck, because they were going to help him with that. He’d been forced to swear secrecy at least four times before the hippies had finally told him of the Beach.

 

“It has the most gorgeous virgin sand you’ll ever see, Tommy boy.”

 

“And no tourist crap anywhere, not for miles.”

 

Gus had drawn him a crude map on a piece of rice paper and Tom had almost tossed it in the bin when he found it in his pocket in the morning, convinced the guys had been bullshitting him. He’d headed to the travel agency for the daytrip to a nearby village like he’d planned, but the thing had been cancelled after some overactive kid had thrown up in the bus, and not wanting to waste his day waiting for the situation to sort itself out, Tom had given the map another look.

 

As he let the waves lap at his ankles, Tom was almost tempted to thank the kid for hurling in the bus, because this place was _gorgeous_.

 

He returned to his knapsack and pulled out his beach towel, setting it on the soft white sand. He’d left most of his things at the hostel, but he’d brought the travel guide he’d bought at the airport with him and he set it next to the towel as he removed his t-shirt to lather himself up with a thick layer of sunblock. He checked his phone but there was no reception, which rendered the device completely useless. The thought of being completely isolated made Tom feel a bit vulnerable, but the feeling was gone almost immediately, replaced with another burst of excitement. He tossed his phone into his backpack and abandoned his little camp to explore the tiny beach, climbing up and down the volcanic rocks and peering over the empty horizon. There was small plant life in the many low tide pools near the shoreline and Tom dipped his fingers into the still, warm water to prod at the tiny corals and shells that had attached themselves to the rocky surface. Once he’d explored the beach in its entirety, he returned to his towel, tipping his fedora and settling down to read, the sound of the waves lapping at the sand almost hypnotic after the loud noises of the crowded city.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The long trek through the woods had been more draining than Tom had realized and he was asleep before he’d made it through the first two pages of his travel guide. His loud snores disturbed the tranquil peace of the beach, his face hidden underneath his fedora while his fair English skin boiled under the unforgiving heat of the late afternoon sun. Gulls circled above his sleeping form, unaware or uncaring of the strange human that had intruded their home.

 

When Tom finally woke up, the sky had turned a marvelous shade of orange and the sun’s glowing wheel was almost in the horizon. He bolted up like a jack-in-the-box, brushing his hat off and shoving his sunglasses down his nose.

 

“Fuck!”

 

He’d made it all the way to this gorgeous, bloody magical beach only to sleep through the daylight hours. “Fuck…” Tom wailed again, giving the sand a frustrated kick. He leaned his arms against his knees and hung his head between his legs, furious at himself. How would he even make it back to the city in the dark when he had barely been able to follow the path to get here in the first place?

 

Tom turned his glum face up to watch what little there was left to see of the sunset, determined to admire the gorgeous colors so he’d have at least one lovely memory of the place. He moved his gaze up the glimmering bridge of light that stretched into the horizon, and his heart nearly jumped up to his throat when he realized there was a man in the water not even 20 meters from him, staring right at him. He blinked and wiped at the sweat that had gathered in his eye sockets, but when he opened his eyes, the figure was still there, as unmoving as a statue.

 

“Hello?” Tom gave an awkward wave with his hand and got up, wiping the seat of his shorts clean of sand. “I uh, I thought I was alone out here. Are you from around here? Do you perhaps know a way back into the city?”

 

The man continued to stare at him, offering no reply, but being away from home didn’t mean one should forget their manners, and Tom began to walk toward the shoreline to introduce himself. “I’m Tom, here on holiday and- ” There was a loud splash when the stranger spun around without a warning and sank beneath the surface, cutting Tom off mid-sentence.

 

“Alright… That was a bit unexpected.” Tom shook his head, utterly baffled by the odd behavior. He continued to stare at the ocean, wondering where the guy would pop up, but when seconds turned to minutes and no one came up, Tom felt an urgent swell of panic in his chest and he hurried closer to the water. “Hey! Hey, are you there?”

 

The water looked like melting gold in the light of the setting sun, but Tom didn’t even notice the beauty of the sight as he paced along the shoreline, calling out to the empty sea. He had no idea how long it had been since the man had disappeared, but he was fairly certain that no one could hold their breath for this long. Throwing his sunglasses and hat behind his back, he dashed into the water and began to swim as fast as he could, his long arms cutting through the small waves as he hurried towards the spot where he thought he’d seen the guy go under. Once there, Tom began to dive, reaching out blindly and diving towards the yawning darkness below him, but his hands found nothing but empty space.

 

It was getting dark and Tom knew it would be difficult to find anyone in these conditions. A feeling of resignation settled into his belly after ten minutes of useless diving and splashing and he pushed to the surface after one last dive, drawing in huge mouthfuls of air. He looked around in the diminishing light, his eyes widening in horror as he realized how far he’d come from the beach. He must have swum farther and farther to the open sea with every dive, and he had left the shelter and the calm waters of the cove. This far out the water was almost chilling and Tom’s fear continued to mount as he felt how little strength he had left in his body. He tried to float and keep his face above the surface as he caught his breath, but the waves continued to draw him further away from the shore and Tom knew he had to swim back _right now_.

 

He’d been the captain of the rugby team in uni, but he’d never been a great swimmer. Still, Tom had to try. He began to kick with his feet, but the waves kept pushing against him, splashing his face with every stroke, making it difficult to see if he was even swimming in the right direction. He had to stop after a couple of minutes to catch his breath, and floating on his back, he felt something slick brush against his left ankle. Tom cried out, swallowing a mouthful of salty water, coughing and spluttering and fighting against the urge to vomit.

 

As he gasped for breath, a muscle in his left calf began to cramp and he was under the surface before he even realized it. Tom struggled to swim back up, ignoring the pain in his leg as he breached the waves and gasped for air, but the rising panic that burned in his chest seemed to drain him of what little strength remained in his body, and he sank back beneath the surface almost as soon as he’d managed fill his lungs.

 

The water was murky now, and Tom’s own pale limbs seemed like ghostly apparitions as they waved in front of his face. His mouth opened in a soundless cry when he felt something brush against his leg once more and he soon realized that _something_ was circling around him, a dark shape moving too fast to see clearly, but Tom was suddenly certain this was going to be his final moment. In a few seconds he’d be eaten.

 

Which is why the sudden appearance of a human face right in front of him came as bit of a shock to Tom.

 

The person took hold of Tom’s hands, giving them a gentle, almost playful yank, and Tom blinked as the stranger pushed close enough to brush his nose against Tom’s cheek.

 

“Mmmhp,” he whined, releasing a burst of bubbles from his nostrils. He was nearly out of air and the burning pain in his lungs was becoming unbearable. The person let go of his hands and touched Tom’s tightly sealed lips, the gesture curious. Unable to think about anything but filling his lungs with air, Tom shook his head, yanking his face toward the surface. He looked down to force his feet to move but what he saw made him freeze completely.

 

There was a large black tail waving gently next to his own pale feet, and following the thing up with his bleary eyes, Tom saw it connect to the naked man before him. All the remaining air in his lungs was lost in the scream that burst out from his mouth. Water rushed into his lungs and the pain made him black out instantly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The same pain laced through his body the moment Tom regained consciousness, but he was vaguely aware of solid ground under his back. He rolled to his side as salty sea water rose up from his stomach and he vomited on the sand, coughing and spluttering as he struggled to remember how to breathe. He slumped on his back and blinked up at the sky above him. The darkening canvas was alight with the brilliant shine of thousands of stars twinkling with the light of past centuries. The moon was still low in the sky and almost as red as the sun it was stealing its light from.

 

Tom licked his lips, frowning when the rusty tang of blood hit his taste buds. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, touching his lips gingerly. It felt like the skin around his entire mouth was covered in small cuts and Tom let out a pained cry when he pressed the tip of his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip, tasting more blood. It was almost like someone had repeatedly bitten his mouth. He heard a series of strange clicking sounds and lifting his head, Tom saw there was something or someone nearby. It lay on its stomach on the sand with the lower half of its body in the water, but Tom could see the long black tail shining slickly in the gathering light of the moon, the flat fluke waving in the air as the creature stared at Tom with what appeared to be a pair of human eyes. The expression on its face changed to something resembling a smile and Tom caught sight of a whole mouthful of thin, sharp teeth.

 

“Jesus!” he cried out, scrambling up the moment his brain caught up with his eyes. His loud scream and flailing seemed to scare the creature and it withdrew into the water with surprising agility, disappearing into the sea with a loud splash from its large tail.

 

Tom stared at the waves, his whole body trembling from exhaustion and shock. He dragged himself away from the shoreline just in case something decided to come out of the water and eat him, but there was no sign of the creature, and Tom was once again completely alone. It took him almost twenty minutes to collect his wits and regain the use of his legs and he was glad he’d had enough sense to shove a torch to the bottom of his knapsack that morning.

 

Tom walked along the thickets that lined the beach until he found the trail he had walked in the daylight and he did his best to forget everything that had happened to him, focusing on following the path in front of him, the thought of getting lost in the darkness terrifying enough to kick him into survival mode. He fell several times, scraping his palms and knees, but he continued to push on, never once looking back to where he’d come from. It was almost dawn when he finally reached the end of the trail, the sight of the city and its neon glow so comforting that Tom burst into tears. The salt stung his sunburnt cheeks but the tears kept coming as his body slowly unwound.

 

Despite the late hour, the streets were full of tourists, many of them stumbling back from the local bars and discos. A tall blond man with lobster pink cheeks stopped Tom with a gentle hand on his shoulder, noticing his bleeding knees and palms.

 

“Hey, kid, are you OK there?” he asked, his accent distinctly Scandinavian. “Can I help you?”

 

Tom lowered his face, wiping at his tear stained cheeks. He mumbled a quiet “no thank you” and quickened his steps, aware that more and more people were beginning to stare at him, probably thinking he’d been mugged. When he got back to the hostel, he found a young couple asleep in the bunk bed the hippies had slept in last night and he tried to be as quiet as possible as he tiptoed across the room. Too tired to even get cleaned, Tom crawled into his own bed and curled up into a ball underneath the starchy sheets.

 

What he’d seen that night, it couldn’t possibly be real. Perhaps he was having a bad case of sun stroke and it had all been a hallucination. And he did smoke that strong weed with the hippies last night so it could be that he was having some kind of bad after trip. Tom almost managed to convince himself he’d imagined it all, but there was no mistaking the cuts around his mouth or the bruises that were already forming around his ribs from what Tom could only guess were someone’s rough attempts at CPR. He remembered the horrible sensation of his lungs emptying of air and opening his mouth to draw in cold sea water and the brief but intense pain that had followed. There was no way he could have made it to shore after that, not without help.

 

But what he’d seen… It had been something out of a fairytale. It couldn’t have been real. Tom let out a quiet hiccup of a laugh, his eyes slowly leaking salty tears into his pillow as his mind continued to reel from exhaustion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tom spent the next two days at a bar near the tourist infested beach he had loved so much upon his arrival, the pain around his ribs forcing him to give himself some time to recover, but he was drawn back to the secret beach the moment he thought he could survive the half-day trek. This time he had come prepared and he pitched the tent he’d bought at a sport store near the hostel under a small outcrop of black rocks, putting most of his gear inside to keep it safe from whatever animals might roam these parts.

 

The thought reminded Tom of his mysterious savior and he glanced at the still waters of the cove over his shoulder, the same mix of utter disbelief and awe he’d felt for the last two days overcoming him once more. The sensible part of his brain kept reminding him that he was absolutely daft for coming back, that he should be at one of those packed buses on a sightseeing tour, or at the beach, tossing back Piña Coladas and getting a tan so everyone at the office would know he’d left behind the gloom of London.

 

But what if he _had_ seen something? Something no one else had seen before. Tom licked his lips, a burst of excitement making his hands shake as he dug out the rubber raft he’d bought from the same place where he got the tent. He spread it out on the sand and began to fill it with the small pump that rolled out from the raft’s yellow folds, and once the boat felt sturdy enough, Tom set his small cooler bag full of snacks and water on the ribbed bottom and covered it with a towel to keep it away from direct sunlight. He threw a bottle of sunblock and the small plastic camera he’d bought into the boat and dove into the tent to fetch one more thing: a bright orange lifejacket. The thing made him look like the marshmallow man from the first Ghostbusters movie and it was uncomfortable in the humid heat, but it was a small price to pay to avoid another near-death experience.

 

He pushed the raft into the water and climbed in, forced to fold his long legs until his knees nearly bumped against his chin. Grabbing the flimsy plastic oars, he began to row until he was about a kilometer out into the open water. There was no wind and the sea was as still as a mirror so there was no need to worry about his little raft being carried away. As long as he could see his bright blue tent on the beach, Tom would be fine. He realized he’d made no further plans, and now that he’d arrived at his destination, he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do. He guessed there was no way to lure the creature out, and Tom couldn’t even be sure it was around. For all he knew, his savior could be miles away from this place. All Tom could do was wait.

 

And wait he did. For several hours. The afternoon sun blazed down from the sky and Tom lifted his Aviators to wipe sweat out of his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. The little cuts around his mouth were barely visible, but the skin still stung as his pores pushed out beads of salty sweat. He’d covered himself with sunblock, but the loose tank top he wore underneath his lifejacket did little to protect his bare arms and they were turning bright red while his previous sunburns had begun to peel off.

 

Tom rested his head against the soft rubbery edge of the boat, his face turned skywards. He picked at a loose strip of dead skin on his forearm and watched a thin tatter of clouds drift by right above his head, bored out of his mind.

 

“This is stupid,” he sighed after a while. “ _I’m_ stupid.” He was wasting his precious vacation on what would no doubt be a wild-goose-chase.

 

His brooding came to an abrupt stop when the raft shook abruptly, the bow dipping under a heavy weight. Tom cried out as the movement jolted him up to a sitting position, and he nearly swallowed his tongue when he realized his savior had finally arrived.

 

He (for it was very clearly a he) watched Tom from the other end of the yellow raft, his arms flung over the sides. The lower half of his body was submerged, but when Tom peered over the side, he could see the familiar black tail swirling slowly in the turquoise water. The boat shook once more as the man lifted himself higher, the look in his blue eyes curious, almost playful.

 

Tom sat up straighter and cleared his throat to find his voice. “Um… Hello?”

The man said nothing, but his big, flat tail fin poked out of the water and came down in a small splash. He stretched his neck and tilted his head from side to side as if he were trying to decide whether or not Tom was a threat. Tom licked his dry lips, giving a tentative smile, hoping it would be enough to convince his visitor that he was completely harmless. It appeared to work, and the man pulled himself even higher as his attention turned on the boat.

 

He reached out to poke at Tom’s things with his left hand while the right one held on to the side of the raft. Tom grinned at the absurd sight, but his smile faltered when the man let out what sounded like an offended hiss, reaching for Tom’s plastic camera.

 

“Oh hey, careful with that-“

 

The camera was in the water before Tom could grab it, and he watched it sink into the azure depths in a slow zigzag pattern. The man gave Tom a look that resembled a frown and as ridiculous as it was, Tom felt a bit scolded. It was clear this creature, whatever it was, didn’t want his picture taken.

 

“Ah, fair enough, I suppose,” Tom nodded.

 

The man checked under the towel, but he didn’t seem to understand that there were more things hidden in Tom’s cooler, and deeming the bottle of sunblock safe, he began to push himself into the boat.

 

“Whoa,” Tom gasped as the raft bounced and tipped from side to side, and to his utter surprise and mild horror, it was suddenly full of wet, rubbery tail.

 

The man had somehow managed to sit himself at Tom’s feet, half of his long tail hanging over the side, dripping water everywhere, including Tom’s brightly colored shorts that were getting completely soaked. Water undulated on the bottom of the raft and it was a small wonder the whole thing didn’t sink under their combined weight. The man leaned against the rounded curve of the bow, seemingly comfortable, the look on his face pleased. He waved his tail fin in the air and smiled at Tom, revealing a familiar white row of sharp teeth. It was like looking into the mouth of a piranha and Tom recoiled at the sight, unable to stop himself as the memory of seeing those same teeth in the dark of the night flashed before his eyes. The man frowned at Tom’s reaction and he pressed the fingers of his left hand against his lips, the look in his eyes apologetic.

 

Tom felt a pang of guilt and he hurried to apologize. “Sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just that I’m not used to… Um, I mean… Well, see for yourself.” Tom revealed his own blunt teeth and the man leaned closer to peer at them, seemingly understanding what Tom was trying to tell him. He reached out to touch the skin around Tom’s lips, the gesture gentle, and Tom wondered if it was meant to be an apology.

 

“It was you who saved me, wasn’t it?” Tom breathed, leaning back from the touch when the salt in the man’s skin began to burn the cuts. “You know, I thought you were drowning… That’s why I was out here,” Tom said, shaking his head in disbelief. He had risked his life for a drowning merman, for what else could he call a man who had the tail of a fish? He could tell by the guy’s vacant stare that he could not understand a word Tom had said, but he still wished to show him his gratitude and so he pressed his hand against his heart, his smile earnest. “Thank you. I don’t know what you did, but I owe you my life.”

 

The man let out a strange chirping sound and Tom suddenly wondered if he was even capable of forming actual words.

 

“I don’t suppose you speak English?” he chuckled, and the puzzled look he received from the guy was answer enough.

 

Tom pressed his hand against his chest once more and said, as clearly as he could: “My-name-is-Tom.” He patted his chest and repeated the sentence. “Tom.”

 

The man tilted his head from side to side, followed by what looked like a nod and Tom’s eyes lit up with excited joy as he realized they had understood each other. The merman copied Tom’s gesture and pressed the webbed fingers of his left hand against his chest.

 

“Hhhccchrissssssssssshhhhhhh,” he hissed, the sound unlike anything Tom had heard before. It was like there were at least three different voices coming out of the man’s mouth, all echoing each other in a strange ripple, the sound so shrill that Tom was forced to cover his ears.

 

The man went quiet when he saw Tom bury his head between his knees, clearly aware that his voice was hurting Tom’s ears. Slowly, Tom looked up, his eyes wide. “Well, that’s quite a… mouthful… But I, uh, I suppose it sounded a bit like ‘Chris’? Do you mind if I call you Chris?”

 

The man tilted his fluke left and right which Tom took to mean that he was fine with his new name. They watched each other for a long time, both equally curious about the other. Tom still felt like he was in some strange fever dream, not quite ready to leave out the possibility of this being a hallucination. He could be in lying in the local hospital with a head injury and it was only a matter of time before he’d wake up and find out he’d been mugged. He pinched his wrist and the pain told him he was most definitely awake, but there was still a merman in front of him. Tom’s imagination began a wild race and he wondered if Chris was perhaps an alien lifeform from another planet who simply chose to take the shape of this strange hybrid body, thinking it was perfectly natural to combine two species on this planet. Chris did have the appearance of a man from waist up, though everything about him was slightly off. His skin was beautifully tan and the sea water had left his long, sun-kissed hair in knots and tangles. His shoulders were broad like those of a professional swimmer, but when Tom lowered his eyes to the sharp cut of Chris’ abs, he saw them melt into the black, rubbery tail that Tom still couldn’t believe was real.

 

He reached out with a tentative hand and gave Chris a questioning look. “May I?”

 

Chris smacked his mouth and shuffled in the boat, and in the next moment, Tom had the lower half of a merman in his lap. The thought made him chuckle in disbelief, but what doubts he had left disappeared the moment he laid his hands on the black tail. He was instantly reminded of the time he was a boy and his father took him to Sea World when Tom had visited him in the States. He’d had the opportunity to see the dolphins and pet their sleek noses, and the tail under his palms had the same rubbery texture. There were two small flippers on both sides of the tail, and Tom grinned at the way they reacted to his touch, flapping against his palms, reminding Tom of a dog’s wagging tail.

 

Chris’ arms were muscled and Tom saw there was thin webbing between each of his abnormally long fingers up to the second knuckle. The skin above his tail, Tom now noticed, was actually covered in very thin scales that shimmered in the sunlight as rivulets of water rolled off the strange texture, and it almost looked like the man before him was made of glass. As Tom looked up, he saw there were thin gashes on both sides of Chris’ thick neck, right below his smooth jaw. They seemed to be sealed closed, and Tom wondered if they were something Chris used to breathe underwater. Tom jumped a little when he felt Chris sit up and lean closer until they were face to face, watching him with what had to be a pair of the most piercing blue eyes Tom had ever seen, the pupils in them abnormally large and slightly slitted. Chris smiled at him jovially, though his mouth stayed closed, and reached up to remove Tom’s straw fedora, rolling it in his hands before placing it on his own tangled head. Tom found himself smiling at the almost childlike curiosity this large, muscled man was displaying at the simplest of things. The next thing to go were Tom’s Raybans, and Tom watched with open amusement as Chris placed them on his own face, blinking rapidly when the reflecting lenses darkened and dulled the colors around him.

 

Tom had applied a generous amount of sunblock on his face, and Chris reached up to run his finger against the white stripe of lotion on the bridge of Tom’s long nose. He brought his finger up to his own nose and inhaled the sweet smell of the lotion before licking it into his mouth with a startlingly pink and _tapered_ tongue. He let out a sound that resembled both a cough and a sneeze and Tom couldn’t help but laugh at the reaction.

 

“You’re not supposed to eat it,” he chuckled.

 

They were still face to face, Chris’ tail now wrapped around Tom’s back, the fluke poking into his right armpit. Tom followed its movements from the corner of his eye, aware of the strong scent coming off the rubbery skin, like a mixture of salt and seaweed and something Tom had no word for.

 

“To tell you the truth, Chris, I’m having a bit of a hard time convincing myself that I’m sitting in a rubber raft with a merman in my lap.”

 

Chris leaned closer at the sound of Tom’s nervous laughter as it bubbled up his throat in small bursts. He lowered the sunglasses he had stolen from Tom and the look in his eyes was a little bewildered but kind, and he reached up to run his webbed fingers through Tom’s sweaty curls, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sharp, dimpled smile.

 

“It’s quite a mop, I know,” Tom chuckled, feeling himself blush a little. “Mum is always calling me her little lamb and other nonsense because of it.” He let out an involuntary yelp when Chris leaned even closer and buried his nose in Tom’s curls, rubbing his cheek against the soft texture. “Oh- alright then…” Tom felt the blush on his cheeks spread down his neck and he pressed his hands against Chris’ chest and tried to give him a gentle shove, but Chris ignored him, his touches growing bolder as his curious fingers began to map out the shape of Tom’s body.

  
   
They poked at the soft, spongy material of his lifejacket and Tom saw him eye the small plastic whistle that hung from the buckle above his heart. He took it between his fingers and blew into it to demonstrate its use to Chris, but he realized it was a mistake when they were both startled so hard the raft shook from side to side, Chris by the sudden, shrill sound and Tom by the angry smack Chris directed at the whistle.

  
   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tom said when Chris hissed deep in his throat, his gills rippling. “Look, it’s completely harmless.” He held the whistle up and tapped it with his blunt nail. Chris eyed it with suspicion, but the moment he realized the whistle would not harm him, he continued to poke at the vest, his hands moving down to Tom's lap.

 

“It looks a bit silly, but I’d rather not have a repeat of what happened the other night,” Tom explained when Chris’s hands pulled on the blue straps that looped around his thighs. They dropped down to rub and squeeze at Tom’s slim legs and his curiosity seemed to grow as he pawed at his calves and long toes. Tom let out an involuntary giggle when he felt Chris’ fingers bend his big toe left and right as he inspected it closely before moving up his calf once more. When the curious touches reached the hem of Tom’s board shorts, Tom froze, the laughter dying on his lips.

 

“Wait-“

 

Chris pushed his hand in through the loose bottom hem on his left trouser and Tom hurried to grab his wrist, his scalp tingling with sudden embarrassment.

 

“That’s, uh, that’s a bit too much,” Tom breathed, his eyes darting around.

 

Chris didn’t seem to share Tom’s inhibitions and he looked a little confused by the sudden show of modesty, but he pulled his hands away and leaned back to give Tom some space, seemingly aware of the awkwardness his curious touches had created between them.

 

The silence stretched on, growing a little uncomfortable and Tom began to fill it with inane babble, telling Chris of his vacation and how he’d wanted to go backpacking since his late teens, saving every quid he earned delivering papers and filling the shelves at Mr. Duncan’s little store. Tom was fairly certain Chris couldn’t understand a word, but it seemed he was content to simply listen to Tom speak, his eyes following the movement of Tom’s lips closely.

 

Tom continued to talk, but the fin gently poking at his armpit reminded him that there was a real life merman in his boat and he was prattling about the boring everyday life at the office and how he was fairly certain Mark from accounting kept stealing his office supplies. “Sorry… I tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

 

Chris smiled at him, but the tail that was coiled around Tom’s back twitched and Tom felt it move away. It seemed the texture of his tail had begun to dry in the scalding sun and Chris was suddenly out of the boat and out of Tom’s sight, taking Tom’s hat and sunglasses with him to the depths.

 

“Oi!”

 

Tom scrambled up to his knees and hurried to lean over the edge of the boat, worrying Chris might be gone for good, but he was proven wrong when the boat began to suddenly bounce and move with great speed, and when Tom peered over the stern, he saw the shape of Chris’ black tail right below the surface, kicking fast as he pushed the boat towards the shore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tom climbed out of the boat once he felt the bottom drag against the sand. He pulled the raft out of the water, relieved to see that Chris was still with him, propped up on his elbows on the wet sand, half of his tail in the water, the waves licking the black surface as they moved back and forth.

 

“Can’t you come out of the water?” Tom asked, and knowing that Chris couldn’t understand him, he pointed at Chris and then motioned at the empty spot on the sand next to where he was standing.

 

Chris’ eyes lit up in a way that told Tom he had understood him. He looked around as if to make sure there was no one else around before using the strength in his upper body to drag himself higher up on the sand, coming to rest at Tom’s feet. Chris peered up at him, his eyes growing wide as he saw how tall Tom was when standing up, and Tom quickly dropped to his knees so they were once again eye to eye. He began to unbuckle his lifejacket and he heard Chris let out a rippling murmur, clearly surprised that the jacket hadn’t been part of Tom’s body. His pupils grew wider as he took in the sight of Tom’s narrow chest and the lean muscles of his arms, and for a moment, Tom felt almost naked under Chris’ intense scrutiny.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They sat together for hours and Tom continued to fill the silences between them with meaningless small talk and stories of his life. He eventually got used to Chris’ lack of words and began to pick up on all the other ways Chris used to communicate. His face was very expressive, and Tom soon learned to read the tilt of his brows and the shapes he made with his mouth, but it was obvious Chris preferred to express himself with the big muscles in his tail. It smacked against the sand and curved around Tom’s feet while the flippers rose and waved in different angles depending on how excited Chris appeared to be. Tom’s mind was bursting with questions he would have loved to ask, but it was impossible for him to sign something like “what are you? Are you alone in these waters? Where do you come from?” Just as it was impossible for Chris to give an answer to such questions.

 

Chris had seemed to recognize the camera and what it was for, and Tom guessed he wasn’t the first backpacker to come to this beach and catch a glimpse of Chris in the secluded waters. But Chris was so curious about Tom, his voice, his body – his legs – that Tom had a feeling this was his first time making proper contact with a human.

 

For a being with no feet Chris was surprisingly agile on dry land. It was close to dusk and Tom got up to gather more wood for their camp fire and he couldn’t have had his back turned for more than two minutes, but when he came back from the edge of the thickets, he found Chris inside his tent, rummaging through Tom’s backpack with his tail pushing out through the open flaps of the tent, curved up and slashing the air almost like a cat’s tail. Tom knelt down next to the sleek tail and poked his head in through the opening. The light in the tent was dim and blue like the fabric and so humid that Tom decided then and there that he would sleep under the stars that night.

 

“What are you up to?”

 

Chris gave him an excited look over his shoulder and held up Tom’s passport, pointing at the black and white photo that made Tom look like he had barely hit puberty even though it was only a few years old.

 

“Yes, that’s me,” Tom nodded, a little embarrassed. He gently took the passport from Chris’ hands and put it aside, not wanting it to get ruined or lost. The next thing Chris pulled out was the travel guide Tom had bought from the kiosk at the airport and Tom’s eyes lit up as he remembered the small world map on the first spread. He took the book from Chris’ hands and motioned for him to follow him to the campfire. Tom reclined on the warm sand and Chris flopped down next to him, peering at the colorful pictures on the pages. He poked his fingers at the still pictures of landscapes and smiling vacationers and Tom let him look until Chris seemed to realize they were not real.

 

“Those are called pictures,” Tom explained. “You take them with a camera.” He lifted his hands up to his face, pretending to take a picture, not at all surprised by the angry hiss his pantomiming got from Chris. “Look, there’s something I want to show you,” Tom said, turning the pages until he found the world map.

 

He set the book on the sand between them and pointed his finger at a specific spot on the map. “This is where we are now,” he spoke slowly, glancing up to gauge Chris’ reaction. Chris stared intensely at Tom’s finger, following its movement when Tom began to trace it across the globe, all the way to the tiny red dot that was London. “That is where I live. That is my home,” Tom said, tracing his finger back and forth between the two ends of an invisible line.

 

Chris glanced at the still sea behind them before turning his eyes back to the map and Tom saw the look in them had turned somewhat melancholy. Chris peered up at Tom and it was obvious he appeared to understand the vast distance between their homes even through the tiny map between them. Fearing he may have ruined the mood, Tom closed the book and went back to his tent to fetch the small guitar he had bought from one the vendors that patrolled many of the areas that were popular among tourists. Chris’ eyes brightened at the sight of the strange object and Tom placed it in his hands, smiling as Chris began to poke at the strings, surprised by the sounds they made.

 

“I could play that for you if you like,” Tom offered, taking the guitar from Chris’ hands. He demonstrated its purpose by plucking the cords to play a few simple notes and Chris gave an eager nod, his tail digging into the sand.

 

“Any requests?” Tom grinned, though he had a feeling Chris had never head music like this.

 

He began to play an old nursery song, deciding to start with something simple and cheery as not to scare Chris with the sounds. Chris listened intently, his eyes, which had turned more luminous in the firelight, wide with awe. He drew himself closer as Tom went through different songs, following the movement of his long fingers as they plucked the cords, poking at the strings with his own webbed fingers every once in a while. When Tom began to sing, Chris tail flapped against the sand with what looked to be genuine surprise, and he peered into Tom’s mouth, touching his lips gently with the rough pads of his fingers.

 

Tom laughed, shaking his head. The whole scene was absurd. He couldn’t believe he was sitting on a beach in the middle of nowhere, half a world away from home, singing _Carmen_ and the old _Boating Song_ he remembered from his school days to a creature that shouldn’t exist out of children’s fairytales.

 

Chris’ tail waved merrily to the rhythm of the tunes Tom drew from the guitar, but Tom was eventually forced to set the instrument down when his throat began to feel parched. Chris slapped his fluke against the sand in obvious disappointment and Tom arched his neck and pressed his fingers to his Adam’s Apple.

 

“Sorry, but I’ll lose my voice if I continue.”

 

Chris copied Tom’s gesture, pressing his fingers to his own neck, and Tom noticed there were three small bumps on this throat where Tom only had the one, highlighting the fact that Chris most definitely was not human, no matter how much he resembled one.

 

The night was warm enough, but Tom got up to stoke the fire, throwing a few more bundles of dried twigs into the small pit he had dug in the sand. He glanced over his shoulder as Chris pushed himself into the shallow water to wet his tail, which was something he seemed to do every twenty minutes. Chris met his gaze from the shoreline, his eyes glowing like small lamps as the firelight grew brighter. Tom settled down on the sand, warm from the campfire, and crossed his hands behind his head to watch the Milky Way where it split the dark canvas of the night sky above his head. He was aware of Chris crawling towards him from the water and he turned his head and gave a shy smile as Chris settled to lie next to him. He had noticed the looks Chris had shot his way throughout the evening, looks that went beyond simple curiosity, and there had been a strange tension mounting between them for some time now.

 

Tom turned his face up once more to admire the stars, knowing they would never shine this brightly in the light pollution over London, but he flinched and let out a quiet gasp when he felt Chris’ wet tail brush against his bare feet where they were half buried in the sand. He raised himself up to lean against his elbows and looked down to where Chris’ inky tail continued to move against his pale calves.

 

The gesture could not be mistaken for anything but what it was meant to be: a caress.

 

Tom licked his lips, hesitating a little before turning his face to meet Chris’ eyes. The look in them was intense and Tom shivered; he’d not received such a heated look from another man since his school days. If he were in a romantic movie, this would be the point where he got his big kiss. Tom’s gaze dropped down to Chris’ full, smiling lips, and he realized with a slight start that Chris most likely wasn’t familiar with the concept of kissing, not with that sharp set of teeth he had in his mouth.

 

Chris slick fluke continued to stroke against Tom’s feet as the strange moment stretched on. He had begun to make a peculiar sound between quiet chirping and soft whistles, and Tom noticed it almost had a melody to it.

 

“Are you singing to me?” he laughed, and Chris returned his smile but didn’t cease his odd song. “I thought sirens were supposed to be beautiful women. Not that you aren’t beautiful, but, um…”

 

Chris rolled a little closer, his flippers poking at Tom’s belly. “I, uh-“ Tom had no idea what to say, and he closed his mouth, knowing that words would be useless anyway. He wondered if Chris would even understand sexual acts the same way Tom did. Would he know that there were differences between men and women, that Tom could not be claimed in the manner one coupled with the females of most species? Would Chris even be capable of penetrating him? Tom had tried to be tactful in his curiosity, but he had taken note of the fact that Chris seemed to lack any sexual organs in his strange hybrid of a body. The black tail appeared to be smooth and entirely impenetrable.

 

Chris continued to watch him intently. It had been obvious from the start that he didn’t share the same social hang-ups and inhibitions that Tom carried with him, but the smile on Chris’ lips wavered with something Tom recognized as fear of rebuttal. There was a clear question in his luminous eyes and Tom realized that whatever this thing between them was leading to would be something Tom had a choice to refuse.

 

He felt a sharp and heady burst of arousal pass through him as Chris’ tail snaked around his legs, the slick fluke slapping gently against his upper thighs. He had no idea if this was even leading to sex, but Tom discovered he was eager to find out. He gave a nod and parted his thighs in a clear invitation, which Chris took almost immediately. He shuffled closer and rolled over until he was lying between Tom’s legs, his upper body pressed against Tom’s sunburned chest.

 

Chris let out a quiet chirp before leaning down and brushing their noses together. Tom could smell the salt and the scent of wet sand on his skin and he wondered if his own scent was strange to Chris, full of artificial chemicals from the shampoo he used to the traces of sunblock that remained on his skin. One of Chris’ hands had wound its way behind Tom’s neck while the other traced the shell of his right ear. Tom felt himself relax and lean into the touch, the strange melodic sounds still rising from Chris’ chest almost hypnotic and gently lulling. He let out a quiet moan, his mouth parting slightly. The gesture drew Chris’ gaze to his lips and Tom flinched, pulling his head back.

 

“No, you can’t-“

 

Chris cooed at him, apparently aware of Tom’s lingering fear of his sharp teeth. He waited until Tom stilled in his arms, and Tom watched with bated breath as Chris opened his mouth, slipping out his pink tongue, twice as long a human tongue, and shaped almost like a… tentacle.

 

Doing his best to hide his shock, Tom parted his lips and showed Chris his own tongue, shorter and flatter, and Chris’ eyes crinkled as they both grinned at the differences between them. For a while, nothing happened as Chris allowed Tom to take in the sight of his long tongue, and Tom felt himself become more and more wound up from sheer anticipation. He shivered when he finally felt the wet tip of Chris’ tongue touch his bottom lip, but the gesture was gentle and the sharp teeth far enough not to harm him, and he forced his body to still, allowing Chris to taste him.

 

Chris continued his exploration, flicking his tongue against the corner of Tom’s mouth, slipping it across his lips to trace the thin shape of them. Tom hesitated, wondering what would happen if he granted Chris the access he was clearly asking for. He found out a moment later when Chris’ heavy pelvis pressed down against Tom’s crotch and his mouth fell open in a quiet little moan. Chris slipped his tongue inside to rub it against Tom’s own tongue and Tom was surprised to discover that the sensation was strange but not at all unpleasant. Chris continued to rub their tongues together, slipping in and out of his mouth in a slow, gentle pace, the sounds rising from his throat growing lower in their pitch.

 

Tom realized there was something like a small suction cup on the tip of Chris’ pointy tongue when it latched on to Tom’s reddened bottom lip, sucking lightly.

 

“Mmmh,” Tom half laughed, half panted, his hands curling in the sand as Chris continued to suckle on his lips.

 

Chris pulled his tongue back and flicked the tapered tip at Tom’s chin playfully before continuing his strange, but pleasurable caresses, this time on the column of Tom’s neck.  He seemed especially curious about Tom’s pulse points and the faint stubble beneath his jaw, nuzzling at it with the cool tip of his nose before moving lower. Tom’s hips shot up and he felt his cock come alive between his thighs when Chris’ long tongue slipped past the low cut neckline of his tank top and reached his dusky nipples. Chris peered up, visibly excited by Tom’s reaction and he latched on to one of his nipples while his left hand reached into the crotch of Tom’s board shorts, curious about the growing hardness he found there. He continued to lave and suckle at Tom’s nipples and Tom was soon almost delirious with arousal, his long legs wrapping around Chris’ tail, hips grinding up against his slick, rubbery skin. His own lips mouthed at Chris’ clavicles, curious about the taste and feel of the rough texture of the tiny scales he had seen in the sunlight.

 

They rolled around in the sand, exploring each other for what felt like hours, Tom’s hands reaching down to caress the fins on Chris’ tail as Chris continued to mark Tom with his tongue. Tom knew he was staining his shorts where his prick was trapped against Chris’ lower abs, the pressure such a pleasurable tease that Tom couldn’t keep himself from grinding up against the heavy weight of Chris’ body. There was a moment of sudden silence when Chris’ melodic whistles and murmurs came to an abrupt stop and Tom sobered up a little when he heard a series of funny clicking sounds from Chris’ mouth. He stilled his hips and realized Chris was staring at his board shorts intently, probably wondering if they were part of Tom’s body or if they came off like the lifejacket. He tucked on the waistline which was held tightly around Tom’s narrow hips by the knot in the laces, a small frown making his brow crease endearingly.

 

“Here, let me help you with that,” Tom whispered. He reached for the white laces and Chris followed the nimble movement of his fingers as he undid the knot and tugged on the waist of his shorts, his movements somewhat hindered by the full erection he was sporting between his thighs. He did a quick work of removing his flimsy tank top, lowering his gaze as he pushed the shorts down his long legs, and his breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of the long… _thing_ that was protruding out of Chris’ tail.

 

Tom sat up and for a moment, all he could do was stare. The fire threw his own shadow over Chris’ body, but Tom could tell the smooth black skin below Chris’ navel had parted to allow what Tom could only assume was Chris’ penis to push out of its sheath. It was thick at the base and so long that Tom was almost tempted to place his forearm next to it to compare their sizes. Unlike the rest of Chris’ tail, the organ was almost light pink and the stark contrast made it seem even bigger as it _curled_ and _twisted_ towards Tom’s own arousal. Tom swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat as he wondered if Chris was already erect or if the thing would continue to grow even further. The tip was much thinner than the base and tapered like Chris’ tongue, and Tom could see a thick trail of translucent slick pushing out of it. He forced himself to look away and met Chris’ eyes, trying and failing to hide his utter surprise. Chris seemed to be aware of the shock that still lingered in Tom’s eyes and he glanced down at his own body, the look on his face becoming a little uncertain.

 

“Sorry,” Tom said, his grin sheepish. “I know I’m staring, but this is a bit new for me.” His gaze fell to Chris’ arousal once more and he felt himself flush when he noticed Chris was equally curious about Tom’s own cock where it stood hard and leaking between his slender thighs. Tom caught his bottom lip between his teeth when he felt Chris’ webbed hand reach out and wrap around his shaft, the tips of his fingers rolling the foreskin tentatively, feeling its texture before pulling it down to reveal the pink head, shiny with arousal.

 

Chris looked up, his eyes dark with obvious desire, the slanted pupils swallowing the blue ring of his irises, giving his gaze a slightly unnerving quality. Tom closed his own eyes and licked his lips, panting out a quiet breath as he settled back on the sand, allowing Chris to continue his exploration.

 

“Sweet Mother of…” he sighed, the words dying on his lips when he felt Chris’ long, slick tongue wrap around his cock.

 

Chris’ lapped at the tip and the strange suction of his tongue was almost too much for Tom when Chris latched on to the sensitive glans, eager for the taste of precome that had begun to bead in the slit, the caresses encouraging the flow. The muscles in Tom’s stomach rippled with tension as he tried to keep himself from thrusting up while Chris continued to suckle, the hardened tips of his fingers sinking into the meat of Tom’s inner thighs.

 

“Please, don’t, I-I don’t want this to be over so soon,” he panted, giving Chris’ shoulders a gentle shove.

 

Chris pulled back and they both watched each other in the warm glow of the firelight, their chests heaving with excited breaths. Chris’ gaze dropped down to his own engorged flesh and when he looked up again, brows arched in a wordless question, Tom realized he must have been waiting for some sort of guidance. He smiled and brushed the pads of his fingers against the shell of Chris’ curiously flat ear before lying back down and slowly parting his thighs wider. Chris cooed at him quietly, watching with curious eyes as Tom reached down to quickly fondle his sac before grabbing his ass and pulling his cheeks apart. Chris leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Tom’s opening. Recognition passed over his features and the sight of Tom’s hole seemed to spur him into action. He used his muscled arms to drag himself closer, settling between Tom’s thighs, the slick head of his cock already poking at Tom’s opening.

 

“Wait, wait!” Tom gasped, pressing his hands to Chris’ shoulders to still him. Chris glanced up, his eyes a little startled. “It’s alright,” Tom murmured, dropping a soft little kiss on Chris’ scaly shoulder. “I just need some time to prepare myself, alright?”

 

Chris tilted his head and it was clear that he didn’t understand why Tom had stopped their coupling. Tom held out two fingers for Chris to see and brought them down between his thighs to rub them against the narrow and slightly crooked tip of Chris’ cock, dipping them into the slick he found there, guessing this was its purpose. Chris’ lashes fluttered at the contact and now that he’d gathered enough courage to touch him there, Tom let his fingers caress the oddly thick and spongy texture of the rigid, pink flesh. The fluid he gathered in his palm and fingers was viscous and translucent and so copious that Tom briefly wondered what Chris’ orgasm would be like.

 

He lowered his hand between his thighs, and Chris let out a sharp clicking noise as he finally understood why Tom had stopped him. He drew back a little to watch as Tom began to finger himself open, but Chris wasn’t content to simply observe for long, and he soon replaced Tom’s fingers with two of his own, equally slick with his own pre-spending. He traced the rim of Tom’s hole, his head tilting as he studied the tiny furl of flesh before pushing inside with one finger. Tom tried to stay as relaxed as he could, but Chris was surprisingly gentle and Tom nodded his encouragement, feeling the webbing between Chris’ fingers brush against his hole every time Chris pulled them out to rub them around the rim. He panted at the feel of Chris’ fingers, wondering if Chris was trying to bring him pleasure with the touches or if he was simply curious about yet another difference in their anatomy.

 

The fingers disappeared for a moment and Tom was about to glance down when he felt Chris’ tapered tongue prod at the sensitive skin and then, without a warning, sink inside him. Tom let out a high-pitched mewl, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing the sight of Chris between his thighs would be too much for him. With his tongue Chris could reach places his fingers couldn’t, and Tom could do nothing but pant and grab at fistfuls of sand as he felt it prod and caress him from within. His cock slapped against his belly, aching with how hard it was, but Tom left it untouched, knowing he would spill the moment he reached for it.

 

“Alright, I think- I think I’m ready now,” Tom panted, petting Chris’ tangled hair. He brought his hand down to the thick base of Chris erection, giving it an experimental squeeze, surprised by the sheer heat of the flesh and the strong pulse that beat against his palm.

 

Chris’ fluke flapped against the sand and he arched his brows in another wordless question, the tip of his cock prodding against Tom’s opening once more. Tom gave a nod and Chris pushed down slowly, the head sliding in without any pain. Tom’s smiled, his eyes rolling closed, the sensation of being so full of cock better than he remembered, though his hurried, often drunken fumbles in the dormitory back in uni probably didn’t even count as proper sex.

 

“That’s it,” Tom murmured, his fingers holding on to the tangled hair at Chris’ nape. “Nice and-“ There was a sudden sting of pain when Chris began to push the much wider base inside, stretching Tom’s opening to its limits. “Wait!” Tom panted, “stop!”

 

Chris’ hips stilled, dark eyes flicking between Tom’s face and down where their bodies were connected. Tom took in a deep breath and forced himself to relax, smiling at the way Chris nuzzled at Tom’s hairline in what was clearly supposed to be a comforting gesture. His tail coiled around Tom’s feet and Tom could feel the sheer power it held in the simple movement.

 

“Alright, I think I’m ready to continue,” Tom said, though he shook his head as he looked down to where he was speared on Chris’ fat, pink arousal. “But I don’t know if I can fit all of that inside me…”

 

Chris seemed to understand, and he stopped pushing just when Tom thought he had reached his limit. His gills rippled and he was breathing hard through his nostrils, clearly holding himself back, waiting for Tom to guide him. Tom brushed his hands through Chris’ tangled hair and moved them down along his broad, well-defined back, giving him a little nudge to communicate that it was okay for Chris to start moving.

 

It was slow going, but the initial pain from the unusual penetration eventually passed and Tom’s body began to get used to Chris being inside of him. The way Chris’ cock curved and slid in and out of his passage was undeniably foreign, as if their bodies weren’t quite meant to be together in such a manner, but there were moments when the curved tip of Chris’ cock brushed continuously against Tom’s prostate and the sensation made him cry out his pleasure as Chris continued to caress him with his tongue, using the tip to suck on Tom’s nipples and leaving tiny marks all over his sunburnt skin.

 

Tom wished he knew more about Chris’ body and what brought him pleasure, if he had secret sensitive spots like Tom, but Chris seemed to be content to simply thrust into Tom’s body, the look in his hooded eyes lazy with pleasure. Knowing he wouldn’t last for much longer, Tom took his cock in his hand and began to jerk himself off, but he barely needed his own touch when the tapered head of Chris’ cock nudged against his prostate once more, sending his orgasm washing over him in short but intense little bursts. Chris stilled inside him, taking in the pleasure on Tom’s face, a delighted little whistle rolling past his lips as Tom caught his breath, his fingers loosening their grip around his softening prick. Chris eyed the puddle of white seed on Tom’s chest, slipping his tongue out to sample the taste without hesitation. Tom saw his tail wave behind him as Chris continued to lap up the cooling seed on Tom’s stomach, following it down to his spent cock where a few pearly drops still clung to the reddened tip. He felt Chris’ own cock twist inside him and Chris dug his large fluke into the sand for what seemed like additional support as the muscles in his arms and upper body tensed gradually. There was no more thrusting and Tom was a little surprised when a moment later, Chris was coming inside him.

 

The sheer force of his ejaculation was enough to send Tom writhing with over-stimulation as the stream of Chris’ come rushed against Tom’s prostate, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure. Chris stared at him intently, the small bumps in his throat bobbing in time with the three low-pitched whistles all echoing each other. The sound wasn’t as bad as the one from the afternoon, but Tom was forced to cover his ears whenever the highest whistle broke through the rest of the sounds rising from Chris’ throat.

 

He could feel some of the copious release already leaking out of him, and he realized Chris was still coming, his cock continuing to pulse inside Tom, pumping a steady stream of seed into him. Panic flared up in his chest and he tried to pull away, but Chris wouldn’t allow him to move, pressing his hips tightly against Tom’s buttocks, his brows drawing together in what looked like a frown.

 

“Chris?” Tom’s voice caught in his throat and his eyes grew wet with alarm. Chris leaned down to nuzzle at the curls that clung to Tom’s sweaty brow, pawing at his arms. He let out a low chirping sound that Tom supposed was meant to calm him, but the feeling of fullness was starting to become overwhelming. Tom reached down in horror as his lower stomach began to bulge out, gaining a slight swell from what had to be Chris’ seed, but just when Tom feared his insides would begin to cramp, Chris was finally done. His cock gave one last pulse before Tom felt it slither out with a rush of watery seed. He let out a relieved sigh, the panic receding as Chris’ heavy weight lifted from his chest.

 

The fire behind them was dying down and it was too dark to see, but Tom could picture Chris’ seed just flowing out of him and absorbing into the sand. He shuddered as the thought made his stomach tighten with a weak pulse of arousal. Chris reclined on the sand, nuzzling at the curls at Tom’s neck and collecting him in his arms before rolling to his side. Tom allowed himself to be held, still a little shaken from the nature of Chris’ release, very much aware that he hadn’t stopped leaking between his thighs. Chris chirped and wrapped his large arms around Tom’s body, his tail curling up to rest between Tom’s bent legs. He rubbed his webbed fingers across Tom’s flat belly affectionately and Tom smiled at the gentle gesture, wondering if Chris perhaps thought he had impregnated Tom, not understanding that sex between two men would not result in a baby.

 

Tom listened to the soft lap of the waves and the crackle of the dying fire. The sounds of the tropical night all around him were suddenly joined by Chris’ strange and melodic lullaby, and Tom felt his eyes droop with impending sleep.

 

When he woke up at sunrise, he was alone and shivering in the cool air of the early morning, the cove still shrouded in the lingering shadows of the night. For a brief moment, he wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing, but he was still naked and the insides of his thighs were caked with dried semen. When he sat up he saw there were large patterns in the sand that didn’t match Tom’s own body.

 

It had been real. Chris had been real.

 

The rising sun began to paint the horizon with its soft hues of pink and blue, and Tom’s eyes caught sight of the little nest of white seashells in the sand nearby. Next to them was a yellow plastic camera, a pair of sunglasses and a slightly lumpy fedora. Tom grinned and reached down to pick them up, setting the soaked hat on his head and glancing over his shoulder to watch as the sun rose in the east.


End file.
